


Four-spice

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Tea Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: After they come back from the cursed woods, Leonie asks Marianne about the new sword she’s carrying. It’s a Relic, that much is obvious – but Leonie didn’t even know that she had a crest, let alone that she knows how to use a sword.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	Four-spice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnapologeticallyMeatwad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/gifts).



Leonie stretches her arms above her head, trying to get a kink out of her back that’s been worrying her for the entire afternoon. She’d been thrown from her horse during the battle, which had jarred an old injury. The ride back from the forest had only exacerbated it, and she’s trying to work it out before she has to go and see a healer. 

“Surely… like this? No, that didn’t work.” She bends down to touch her toes. After helping to stable the horses who had come back from the campaign today, and eating dinner, and talking to the merchants to replenish her arrow supplies, she’s really starting to run out of excuses. 

“Leonie?” 

She’s already smiling as she turns towards her favourite healer. Marianne has a clutter of medical supplies in her arms, and Leonie recognises them as her personal things. She’s probably heading to her room. Marianne comes to her side and Leonie thinks that she’s not going to get a clearer sign than this.

“Hey,” she says, warmth bubbling in her chest. “You wouldn’t happen to have a few spare casts of heal still left in you?” 

She’s probably selfish to ask. After all, Marianne had been cornered all by herself today, alone with that terrible beast. Leonie had been there right with the Professor as they had forced their way through the forest, fighting off wolves and beasts alike along the way. Seeing it had made her heart stutter in her chest – it had been _old_ , and intelligent where most beasts there is only dull animal pain. Byleth had not said a word about it, but Leonie has been trying to forget about it ever since it fell. Marianne and the Professor had stood by the side of the beast as it had faded away, and Leonie had only been glad that it had been over. 

Marianne’s brow creases. Leonie tries not to find it too cute. “Are you still hurt?” 

“An old injury, I think,” Leonie admits. “I didn’t always have such great mages around when I got into trouble.” She winks. 

Marianne still looks worried, so Leonie doesn’t protest when Marianne leads her back to her room. It’s hardly the first time they’ve been here – in fact, Leonie has passed many a pleasant afternoon alongside Marianne within these very walls. Almost out of habit, she fills the tea pot from the bucket of fresh water by the door, and takes her flint stones from her pouch. 

“Leonie,” Marianne chastises her lightly. “You’re still hurt. Let me start the fire.” 

Leonie pulls back at her hand on her shoulder, watching as Marianne lights the fire with a touch. She sighs as Marianne puts the kettle on to boil, and goes to sit in her usual chair near Marianne’s desk. 

Marianne busies herself putting away the supplies that she had been holding, and Leonie watches as she moves around the room tidying things away. She blames her sudden tiredness for not noticing sooner – it’s not until Marianne is left holding only one thing, clearly unsure where to put it, that Leonie realises what is in her hand. 

“Where did you get _that_?” Leonie asks, staring at the glowing, pulsating sword in Marianne’s grip. It’s a Relic, that much is obvious – but Leonie didn’t even know that she had a crest, let alone that she knows how to use a sword. 

Marianne swallows, the light of the fire casting a deep shadow over her expression. “Leonie…” 

“Hey,” Leonie says, getting up and going to her. Marianne sits on the edge of her bed, laying the sword across her lap. Now that she’s noticed it, Leonie can’t take her eyes off of it – the way it glows, lighting up this part of the room, the way that it’s moving, ever so slightly. She’s seen other Relics before, Sylvain’s lance that he totes around despite loathing the thing, Lysithea’s stave that she always, always carries with her. The Professor’s blade, above all. 

“It’s mine,” Marianne says quietly. “I asked the Professor to take care of it for me, but… I’m the only one who can use it. So the Professor insisted that I keep it.”

“I didn’t think you had a crest,” Leonie admits. Marianne flinches slightly. 

“I don’t… want people to know. It’s not useful to me, anyway. It’s a bit similar to Felix’s… so I just have to be careful when I’m pulling things around. I’m not very good at using it, so it can sometimes happen when I’m not trying.” She bites her lip. 

“I thought you were better at using lances than swords,” Leonie says. 

“I am,” Marianne says. “Lances… they’re useful to know for horse riding. Not that you can’t use swords as well, but…” 

“Hey, you know I’m a lance girl,” Leonie says lightly, trying to boost her mood. Marianne smiles at her, but it’s a brief, quiet thing that fades as soon as she looks back to the sword. 

“I’m too clumsy to use this,” she admits. “Just look at it. Isn’t it horrible?” 

Leonie has nothing to say against that. The sword definitely creeps her out. 

“Why did the Professor give this to me…” Marianne murmurs. 

“Hey, we trust the Professor,” Leonie says. “And I trust you. If you don’t want to use it - that’s fine. You don’t have to.” 

Marianne lets out a soft breath, but looks up gratefully. “Thank you, Leonie. You always know the right thing to say.” 

Leonie clears her throat. “Just pointing out the obvious.” 

“So you don’t… hate me, for having a crest?” Marianne asks quietly. 

“ _What_?” Leonie asks, shock setting in her gut. It reminds her of how she shoots her arrows at targets, when she’s lazy and doesn’t pull out her old volley before she launches the new one, and she splits an arrow straight down the middle. That hard and sharp sound, and the splintered remnants that scatter across the training field. She’s that broken arrow, shattered before it could understand what was happening to it. “Marianne, I could _never_ hate you. And especially not for something like whether or not you have a crest.” 

Marianne folds her hands over each other, over the top of the sword. Leonie goes down on one knee so she can try to catch Marianne’s eyes, but her girlfriend stubbornly avoids her. 

“You don’t like it when the nobles flaunt their crests,” Marianne whispers. “And you don’t like that they get Relics, to use… that you can’t. Just another thing that’s given to them by birth, something you can’t catch up to.” 

Leonie sighs. “Marianne, I don’t think anyone knows that you have a crest, so it can’t be said that you’re flaunting it. And you don’t want to use that sword.” 

“Another opportunity I’m wasting,” Marianne says bitterly. 

“Don’t say such things,” Leonie scolds. “You’re right, I don’t like the Relics, but who would! Look at it, Mari. You’re right, there’s something wrong with it. Something that makes you want to avoid it. And you use your magic, not a blade, so I just think this is just an unfortunate thing that has landed in your lap.” She flashes a grin at her. “And if those nobles think that I need a Relic to overtake them, then they’re just fooling themselves. I don’t need a fancy bow or lance to outpace them.” 

Marianne finally looks at her, a small smile overtaking her face. Leonie feels herself melt a little at the expression, which she’s never seen directed at anyone besides herself and the Professor. 

“You’re right about that,” Marianne says. “You’re amazing, Leonie.” 

Leonie smiles back. “Thanks, Marianne.” She reaches out to wrap her hands around Marianne’s and the two of them sit there for a few seconds, until the kettle starts whistling to show that the water has boiled. 

“Let me–”

“I’ll get–”

They look at each other, and Leonie laughs. “I’ll get the water, if you pick out some tea for us.” 

“Of course,” Marianne agrees. Leonie makes sure that the table is set for the hot kettle, and fetches two teacups as well. Marianne pulls out a drawer and starts going through it. Her collection of tea isn’t as impressive as the Professor’s, but she hosts far more rarely, and with a far more select few people, so she doesn’t have to accommodate a wide variety of tastes. 

Leonie brings the kettle over, and watches as Marianne prepares the tea with practised movements. As much as she’s clumsy, when it really matters, her hands are as steady as Leonie’s bow when she aims at a far distant target. She wouldn’t be as good of a healer as she is if there were issues with her dropping things or misplacing things when she’s tending to patients. The few times that Leonie has seen Marianne truly stand up for herself have always happened when someone is directly under Marianne’s medical care. Leonie likes to think that she’s trusted enough to see that steadiness, that Marianne doesn’t feel like she has to perform or be anyone who she isn’t when they’re alone here, in her room. 

“Four-spice?” Leonie asks, grinning as the scent wafts over to her. Marianne tidies the tea set to keep her hands busy, and looks at that instead of at Leonie. 

“I just want to thank you,” she murmurs. 

Leonie takes her teacup gratefully, inhaling the mixed scent deeply. “Well you’re doing a fine job of it.” 

She has the pleasure of seeing the tips of Marianne’s ears go ever so slightly pink. Marianne pours for Leonie, and then Leonie takes the teapot from her and pours for Marianne. It’s a quiet thing, but it leaves Leonie’s heart full.

Marianne’s eyes drift over Leonie’s shoulder, back to where she had laid the sword against the bed. “What am I going to do with it?” 

“Well, I don’t think you should keep it in your room,” Leonie advises. “The armoury, perhaps?” 

“No, all the soldiers are allowed in there,” Marianne says. “Maybe… I could ask Sylvain if he could keep it safe for me.” 

Leonie feels her eyebrows rising without her input. “Sylvain?”

“Well, he keeps his own Relic safe, doesn’t he?” Marianne mutters. 

“If you’re going to ask someone who has a Relic and keeps it safe, you should ask Claude,” Leonie points out. “He’ll make sure no one will be able to get their hands on it without him knowing about it.” 

“I wouldn’t want to bother him with this,” Marianne tries to say, but Leonie reaches out over the table to hold her hand. 

“Mari, this is exactly the type of thing he should know about,” Leonie says. “He’s our leader, and he’s smart, and he won’t let anyone without a crest grab it and turn into a demonic beast.” 

Marianne flinches slightly at that. Leonie can hardly think about that night, years ago now, when they had cornered Sylvain’s brother inside that watch tower, without shivering herself, so she doesn’t blame her. 

“Okay,” Marianne says, a little stronger. “I’ll ask him.” 

“At least you didn’t think to go to Hilda first,” Leonie says wryly. “I have no idea how that woman locates anything she owns. Have you seen her quarters?”

“N-no,” Marianne stutters slightly, and Leonie huffs a laugh. Marianne looks up at her, and she must see something in Leonie’s expression, because her eyes grow warm. Leonie squeezes her hand and then lets go, to bring her teacup up and take a sip of her favourite tea. Tea that Marianne has, just for her. 

“I’m just teasing,” she says, and is blessed as Marianne’s face falls into an adorable pout. 

“I knew that…” 

“Seems like I have to polish those skills, then,” Leonie says, winking at her. Marianne’s flush travels across her cheeks and down her neck, and Leonie tries to think about anything cuter she has ever seen in her life, and comes up short. 

“You’re always welcome to practise with me,” Marianne offers, and Leonie grins. 

“Now who’s teasing?” 

Surrounded by Marianne’s quiet but genuine laughter, with the warmth of her love and the tea between her hands, it’s easy to ignore the twitching sword that’s sitting behind her, and the war that’s still looming on the horizon. For now, she’ll take what joy she can, to face tomorrow with no regrets. 


End file.
